


losing you (one, two, three, where are you?)

by silverkatana



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: M/M, Mild Angst, Unrequited, canon AU, jeongcheol - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 12:31:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20258149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverkatana/pseuds/silverkatana
Summary: maybe it was the way he fell too hard for jeonghan.





	losing you (one, two, three, where are you?)

Seungcheol doesn’t remember the first time he noticed it was _ different. _

Maybe it had been the way he watched as Jeonghan wrapped his arms around Jisoo’s waist when it used to be him, and maybe it had been the way the warmth that Jeonghan’s embrace had always brought him suddenly felt stripped away from him, and maybe it had been the way it left him so cold and lost.

He had thought nothing of it at first, of course. It wasn’t like it was uncommon for members to show one another physical affection; it wasn’t like Jeonghan didn’t hug other members.

But maybe it had been how _ different _ it seemed, how the next time Jeonghan embraced him it seemed as though his arms merely encircled without touching, how it seemed like it meant less than it should have been.

_ “Why does it seem so cold when you’re right next to me?” _ he had wanted to ask Jeonghan back then, but he had turned his head and met Jeonghan’s gaze and had shut up right there and then, because Jeonghan’s eyes had been so effervescent with a thousand different shades of warmth, so akin to fireworks fizzing across night skies in a million bursts of colour, that Seungcheol felt all the words dissolve and die on his tongue.

Maybe it had been the way Jeonghan had looked up, breaking their shared gaze, and met Jisoo’s instead. Maybe it had been the way Seungcheol realised who was the one who caused Jeonghan to glow like the light of a hundred fires.

And it hadn’t been him.

He doesn’t remember if that’s the first time he noticed how _ different _it was.

But it must have been, because he remembered every moment after that.

─────────── ☽ ───────────

(one.)

“Goodnight,” Jeonghan whispers after dark, voice thickened with drowsiness. Seungcheol is already drifting half in and half out of consciousness - filming for hours on end proves to be a tiring thing - but he’s still awake enough to hear the smile in Jeonghan’s voice, and it makes him smile too.

“Goodnight,” he responds in a low breath, nestling his head into the pillow, a familiar warmth flowing in him. He wonders if Jeonghan can hear the smile in his voice, too.

Jeonghan shifts against the sheets. There’s the faint sound of him brushing his hair out from where some is trapped under his shoulder, and when Seungcheol turns his head, he makes out Jeonghan turning over to face him in the gloom. That makes Seungcheol smile a little wider.

“Goodnight, Seungcheol-ah,” Jeonghan murmurs, the smile still ever-present in his voice, albeit a little sleepier-sounding; only that it might as well not have been, for all the shock that it sent coursing through Seungcheol’s veins.

_ Oh _ , he thinks to himself, but he doesn’t vocalise it, instead letting out a shaky exhale as quietly as he can. _ Oh. _

And all of a sudden he’s wide awake, uncomfortably so.

He doesn’t know whether to laugh at himself or to turn away, pull the blankets over his head, and pray that he would lose his memory somehow in the next four or so hours of sleep. Of _ course _ it hadn’t been meant for him. How _ delusional _ was he to think that the tender sweetness in Jeonghan’s voice had been meant for him when Jisoo was right there?

He doesn’t know how tightly he’s gripping his sheets and staring up at the ceiling with a fixed gaze until Jeonghan shifts again and utters a soft, “Seungcheol, you okay?” and he feels all his breath leave him at one go, and his knuckles genuinely _ hurt _ by the time he lets go of the sheets.

“Yeah,” he replies after a long pause. Jeonghan gives a soft hum of acknowledgement and stops moving around, and with a silent groan he drags the blankets well over his head, drowning out all the sounds around him in an attempt to just go to sleep and to stop thinking.

It only makes his thoughts louder inside his head.

_ Go to sleep _ , his mind chides him wearily, and he tries his best, he really does. His mind grows hazy, and he relaxes at the prospect of long-awaited sleep coming soon. He _ does _ fall asleep, and he really is glad about it, up until his dreams somehow morph into Jeonghan, into the empty embraces and the eyes that look past him and the saccharine smiles not meant for him, and then he’s wide awake again, yanking the covers off his head and staring into nothingness with laboured breaths and thoughts about everything that once was - _ of everything that isn’t _\- running at a million miles per minute.

He ends up losing sleep over Jeonghan.

─────────── ☽ ───────────

(two.)

Jeonghan is laughing, Seungcheol notes. It’s a sound he’s come to recognise well; it’s a sound he’s come to enjoy hearing, really. It’s unclear amidst the general loud clamour of the waiting room that thirteen members of the same group are sure to bring, but he’s able to pick it out all the same.

Waiting as his makeup artist sets up her supplies, he swivels his chair around to survey the waiting room. Myungho and Mingyu are sitting on the floor for whatever reason, Seokmin is singing at the top of his lungs, Chan is having a staring contest with Jihoon, and Jisoo is attempting to comb through Jeonghan’s hair.

Seungcheol squints a little.

Jisoo is indeed attempting to comb through Jeonghan’s hair. It doesn’t seem like Jeonghan’s hair is agreeing with the comb, but they’re laughing and their smiles are so _ bright _ on their faces, and Seungcheol doesn’t know what’s gotten into him but he’s almost glad when the makeup artist tells him to face the mirror so that he can get his makeup done.

Nowadays, for some reason, it’s easier to stop watching them.

_ Jealousy? _ He huffs out a sigh, which is quickly followed by an apology as he hears the makeup artist groan a little at how much he’s fidgeting. _ That’s ridiculous. It’s not like I’m in love with Yoon Jeonghan or whatever, and it’s not like Jisoo is taking him away, or whatever. _

His eyes follow their movements through the mirror. He doesn’t know whether to be grateful for the mirror or to loathe its very existence. _ Jisoo’s his friend, just like how I’m his friend. We’re all friends, all equal, aren’t we? Stop overthinking things. _

Jeonghan laughs harder. He squints harder, and gets a scolding from the makeup artist as she wipes away smudged eyeshadow. He apologises.

One laugh is enough to break apart his attempts at convincing himself to think otherwise, and the way Jisoo runs his hands through Jeonghan’s hair with a proud smile after successfully coaxing it to cooperate is enough to make Seungcheol feel like disappearing right there and then.

_You_ _liar._

_ You shouldn’t lie to yourself like that _.

_ Not when you _ are _ in love with him. _

He fidgets some more against his will, and the fleeting ‘sorry’ escapes his lips almost out of habit. He can tell that the makeup artist is probably having a hard time, what with the attempts to delicately apply eyeliner to someone _ not _ staying very still.

He blinks, and suddenly Jeonghan is in the seat next to him, and he has to bite back a muffled noise of surprise. Jeonghan takes it as a sound of greeting, and turns to him with faint creases in the corners of his eyes and a smile painted upon his lips. “When did you get here?” he asks hoarsely, throat too dry for his liking, “I thought you were fighting with your hair.”

Jeonghan chuckles at his choice of expression, staying perfectly still as another makeup artist begins to apply foundation. Seungcheol is almost envious of how _ unaffected _ Jeonghan can be by his presence, and he finds himself wondering why it can’t work both ways. “Shua managed to deal with it,” he says simply, but Seungcheol doesn’t miss the affection underlying in his tone.

“Oh,” he responds, and then he falls silent, because he doesn’t know what else to say.

He’s getting more fidgety with Jeonghan right next to him, and the number of times his makeup artist has had to tell him to stop moving is getting a little concerning. It’s _ hard _ , though, when there’s _ so much _ he wants to say to Jeonghan, and when there’s _ so much _ he can’t say.

In the end, he only stops and forces himself to stay stock-still after nearly getting his eye stabbed out by an eyeliner brush, because as much as his thoughts have been invaded by Jeonghan recently, he’d honestly rather keep his eye over anything else.

“How much of a mess were you?” Jeonghan jokes in an easygoing drawl as Seungcheol is finally released from his seat, make-up plastered to his face without mishaps, “You took so long that _ I’m _ nearly done.”

Seungcheol turns to pull a fake scowl at Jeonghan. _ I was a mess because of you _, he wants to say, but settles on, “Hey, not everyone has the ability to sit there half-asleep for so long like you!”

Jeonghan snickers. It’s a pleasant sound. But it also reminds Seungcheol of Jeonghan’s laugh with Jisoo, and suddenly it doesn’t seem so pleasant anymore.

“You’re in a good mood today,” Seungcheol says out of the blue, but Jeonghan doesn’t seem to mind the abruptness of it. He shrugs, keeping his eye closed as he lets the makeup artist apply faint dustings of eyeshadow on his eyelids. “Shua was really funny just now, you should’ve been there. It was hilarious.”

“He makes you happy,” Seungcheol hears himself say, and he finds himself immediately hoping that he’s finally gone senile and he’s just hearing voices in his head.

His hopes are, of course, dashed when he sneaks a glance at the mirror and sees Jeonghan’s eyebrows furrowing in slight contemplation. 

_ Well, shit, I guess. _

Jeonghan’s unreadable look turns to one of placidness. Another smile. It meets his eyes again this time. 

He doesn’t seem to think much of Seungcheol’s words. Seungcheol’s heart rises in gratitude.

“Yeah,” Jeonghan utters lightly, and Seungcheol realises the cause of the happiness that dances aflame in his eyes. “Yeah, he does.”

He doesn’t seem to think much of his own response, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. 

Seungcheol’s heart shatters beat by beat and falls in splintered shards against his ribcage.

_ But, but - _

He doesn’t know why his throat is so tight, like a lifetime’s worth of words had drowned somewhere within his larynx and clogged up his trachea. He doesn’t know why it feels like this when it _ shouldn’t _. He doesn’t know why these thoughts come to him when they should be far away from him.

He doesn’t know why these feelings haunt him.

But he feels them all the same.

He doesn’t know why these thoughts materialise in his mind like ghosts of every waking hour.

But he thinks them all the same.

Of what they could have been.

The back of his throat _ stings _.

“Is everything okay?” Jeonghan asks, concerned, as he reaches out to brush against Seungcheol’s wrist.

“Everything’s fine,” Seungcheol says. He doesn’t believe it for a second. He wonders if Jeonghan can see through it, too.

“Are you sure?”

Seungcheol forces his expression to melt into a smile. The same smile that screams _ I’m in love with you, idiot _. But he knows that Jeonghan does not see it; he knows that well by now.

_ \- but I can make you happy too. _

─────────── ☽ ───────────

(three.)

The sun’s caress is a welcome warmth against Seungcheol’s skin in the chill that autumn brings; the weather is particularly good today, and all the members seem to be in equivalently high spirits despite already working through schedules in the morning and afternoon. Some of the younger members are running on ahead with coffee sloshing in plastic cups and the wind rushing through now-unruly hair, laughter carried in swift rushes of air and smiles broadened along upwards-curved lips.

“Hey,” Jeonghan says, soft, by Seungcheol’s ear. It makes him jump a little in surprise, and a low chuckle thrums through Jeonghan’s throat as he takes note of Seungcheol’s half-shocked, half-mortified expression. “Sorry, did I scare you?”

“Uh.” Seungcheol clears his throat. “No, it’s okay.” 

It’s been a while since they’ve spoken aside from the usual pleasantries and discussions over the group’s activities. It makes Seungcheol more nervous than he should be.

It’s a bitter feeling.

“I haven’t spoken to you a lot recently,” Jeonghan comments, falling into stride with Seungcheol, and Seungcheol is jealous of how _ easy _ it is for Jeonghan to just keep going on as if _ nothing has changed. _

Seungcheol pulls his coat a little tighter around him. “Yeah.” He doesn’t know what to say anymore, and it drives him insane. 

It would be so much easier if they just went back to what they had been.

_ “Seungcheol-ah!” _ Jeonghan’s voice permeating lethargic silences in thick morning air, Jeonghan’s arms around his frame, Jeonghan’s hair tickling his collarbone. He had always complained about it being ticklish, but he never truly minded. Really. _ “Wanna watch a movie later?” _ Jeonghan’s head fitted against his shoulder as he curled himself into Seungcheol. The scent of his shampoo halfway through the climax of action movies as he chooses to use Seungcheol as a pillow and go to sleep instead of watching the movie. The nights spent sleeping on sofas with Jeonghan’s arm flung over his waist and a blanket pulled haphazardly over both of them. Waking up to Jeonghan lying in the exact same position and his arm being numb from being trapped under him for so long.

He never minded. Really.

_ “Seungcheol!” _ Jeonghan’s voice taking on a sing-song lilt. Last autumn. Hair swept back into a loose ponytail, brown eyes alight with a kaleidoscope of the sun’s colours, a casual arm thrown over Seungcheol’s shoulder. Seungcheol had looped his own arm around Jeonghan’s shoulder too, then. It had seemed like such a natural thing to do, then. _ “Want some coffee?” _ A cup of iced coffee placed in his hands, his favourite kind. _ My treat _, Jeonghan had mouthed, smile dancing on his lips, and Seungcheol had brought his other arm up too to capture Jeonghan in a hug, the latter’s surprised laughter ringing in his ears. It had seemed like such a natural thing to do, then. And the coffee had been cold, so cold, making the chill of the autumn air even stronger.

But he never minded. Really.

“Ah, Jisoo’s there,” Jeonghan murmurs, more to himself than to Seungcheol, but Seungcheol hears anyway. He wishes he didn’t.

“Seungcheol-ah! I’ll catch up with you later,” Jeonghan says, throwing Seungcheol a quick grin that makes him almost _ angry _ at how _ easy _ it is for Jeonghan to make his mind and heart and _ everything _ turn into a mad rush of too many and too few emotions and thoughts and feelings all at once. “See you back at the dorm, alright?”

“Sure.” His voice sounds empty echoing back at him, and his footsteps slow to a halt as he watches Jeonghan make his way to Jisoo, the spring evident in his step, the light clear in his eyes and the laughter already rimming his lips.

He watches the cup of coffee, the kind that he knows Jeonghan likes, move from Jeonghan’s hands to Jisoo’s. Jeonghan offers it, and Jisoo accepts with a smile of gratitude. And then he takes a sip and places his arm around Jeonghan’s shoulder, and Seungcheol turns away, because it reminds him too much of _ everything _ and he hates it.

The _ ease _ with which they communicate, the _ affection _ that is so achingly prominent in their words and actions towards one another; it makes him envious, almost. It’s not that they’ve never been affectionate towards one another before - he’s never minded, really. Until their affection began to touch at more dangerous borders, and until Seungcheol discovered how _ much _ Yoon Jeonghan mattered to him, and until Seungcheol discovered how much he would rather Jeonghan be by _ his _side instead.

Life is unfair, he thinks.

The sense of loss is ironic, since Jeonghan is _ right there _ in front of him. 

But it’s not _ enough _.

_ Funny _ , Seungcheol reflects as he squints up at the sunlight that’s beginning to bleed into the softer hues of evening skies, _ I’ve never had you to begin with. _

_ Why does it always feel like I’m losing you, though? _

He turns back. Jeonghan’s arm is around Jisoo’s waist now, and it looks as if it was made to be there, fitting too perfectly into the little crook. Jisoo’s arm, too, flung so casually over Jeonghan’s shoulder, looks too perfect, too well-placed, too fitting.

Seungcheol’s chest clenches a little again, and the thoughts that come alongside a harried rush of breath are unavoidable.

_ It should have been me. _

It’s bitter. Of course it is. The bile rises up his oesophagus like a deadly plague, asphyxiating, choking. He’s reminded all over again of what they were, and of what they could have - _ should have _ \- been.

He watches as Jeonghan’s and Jisoo’s silhouettes fade into the colours of the setting sun and the rows of apartment buildings along crowded streets.

And of what they are.

He sucks in a breath, harsh and jarring. The evening air of late autumn that follows the breath sends cold tingling along the back of his throat.

This is the same road they’ve walked along every autumn since they’ve moved into the dorm. This is the same road he walked with Jeonghan ever since they moved into the dorm. This is the same road he walked with Jeonghan last autumn, sipping his favourite coffee next to his favourite person, back when everything had fallen into place like puzzle pieces in perfect matches.

It’s what they were.

Seungcheol inhales again, sharper than before. He doesn’t mind the cold air.

_ I made you happy, too. _

He finds himself stopping, eyes wandering along forlorn grey streets, differentiating between a mixture of silhouettes along fading sunset hues, gaze searching endlessly for the one familiar frame holding a cup of his favourite coffee, ponytail swaying in evening wind, his name fresh on upturned lips. 

Even if he knows he won’t find what he’s looking for.

He still hears it, feels it, remembers it. 

He remembers it all.

The way Jeonghan wrapped his arms around him in fond embraces, the way he muttered out sleepy morning greetings, the way he smiled at Seungcheol even with his eyes closed and smile still crooked with drowsiness.

The way the weight of his head felt nestled between the crook of Seungcheol’s neck and shoulder, the way he lay so close that his hair tickled Seungcheol’s skin, the way his shampoo smelled. The way Jeonghan’s arm felt draped over his waist, the way the nights bled into mornings with Jeonghan by his side.

The way his name sounded off Jeonghan’s tongue in a half-shout, the way the coffee tasted so good even in the cold, the way Jeonghan’s arm felt around him and the way his arm felt around Jeonghan’s.

And the way Jeonghan’s eyes no longer shine because of him, and the way Jeonghan’s arms don’t find their way around him anymore, and the way Jeonghan doesn’t say his greetings the same anymore.

And the way Jeonghan doesn’t buy his favourite kind of coffee anymore, and the way it’s hard for him to speak to Jeonghan now, and the way his arms don’t find it natural anymore to rest along Jeonghan’s shoulders.

Seungcheol shuts his eyes tight, drowns out the thoughts running too heavy in his mind, and counts to three.

_ Where are you? _

When he reopens his eyes, he finds himself still searching. The crowds of people are beginning to clear, filtering into their own homes, and the silhouettes against the dying light are lessening now.

He knows without looking that the one he’s looking for isn’t there.

He looks anyway.

Just in case.

_ Where are you? _

Just in case.

_ I don’t want to lose you. _

**Author's Note:**

> aaand that’s a wrap for my first svt fic featuring my one & only svt otp! hope y’all enjoyed & that it wasn’t too crappy hehe
> 
> @yoonjeongcheols | twitter if anyone wants to be mutuals!


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